


Something

by aoyama (HowlinForHale)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Drama, M/M, Mysticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-02-11
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:51:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowlinForHale/pseuds/aoyama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Translation from Russian. Written for the OTP WARS, prompt: “mystery/horror/psychological”</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“I see it, too,” Momoi says unwittingly.</i><br/><i>Suddenly attentive, Aomine turns to face her.</i><br/><i>“What?”</i><br/><i>“That something's wrong with Tetsu-kun."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [impazzire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impazzire/gifts).
  * A translation of [Что-то](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159620) by [impazzire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/impazzire/pseuds/impazzire). 



> Thank you for reading, and please don't forget to give your appreciation to the original author!  
> If the translation sounds awkward at any point, please don't hesitate to comment and I'll try to make it better. :)  
> You can also come join me on Tumblr: ao-yama.tumblr.com

It's early morning, about 5am. The night is not yet over, its darkness is still absorbing the bleak rays of the rising sun. The city seems almost lifeless at this time of day, with only the occasional car escaping the mist as its headlights cut through the shadows. Clubs continue to attract their customers with flashy neon signs, a few taxis are already working by the station. The drivers, wearing service caps and white gloves, are waiting for the early trains to arrive. Aomine and Momoi are on one of them.

The wagon they're sitting in is submerged in darkness; on the other side of the window the sky is slowly brightening. All the seats are taken: the people sleep in uncomfortable positions, someone in the back snores faintly. Quietly, the train moves onwards, gliding almost soundlessly over the tracks. There seems to be no reason to feel anxious. Yet Momoi can't sleep. She's looking out of the window and waiting for Aomine to wake up, chin resting in her hand. Somehow, she feels uneasy sitting all alone in the total silence, so she mouths the words to a random song under her breath. Her lips move, from time to time stilling to curl into a light, easy smile.

Aomine is sitting next to her, legs stretched out and head lolling to the side. He hasn't fallen into a deep sleep, and it shouldn't be long till he rouses. Most likely, Aomine will wake up from the first noise he hears, but for now he's asleep, motionless, letting go of the fatigue that has accumulated during the day. His arms occupy the armrests, a basketball rolls around under his legs; Momoi hasn't managed to talk him into putting it onto the baggage shelf. Aomine is very stubborn, after all.

Behind them, someone makes a noise. The sound of a bag being unzipped, the hissing of an opened mineral water bottle – a person stilling their thirst. Momoi turns away from the window and looks over to Aomine, watches his face. Aomine frowns and wakes up as expected. He looks worn-out and unhappy, lips pressed together in a frown, a slight confusion in his eyes. For a moment, he doesn't seem to know where he is.

“Shit,” he curses. “We're not there yet?”

Momoi shakes her head no and takes out two water bottles from her bag, giving one to Aomine. With a nod, Aomine unscrews the cap and takes two big gulps.

“About one and a half hours left,” Momoi sighs.

“You don't wanna sleep?”

“No, I can't fall asleep.”

Aomine is silent. He crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, as if planning to fall asleep again. Momoi turns to the window and, not being able to stand the silence, asks quietly:

“Do you think Tetsu-kun will come to greet us?”

“Dunno,” Aomine answers without opening his eyes. “It's too early, he should sleep. I would for sure.”

“Come on. Liar.”

“'m not.”

Momoi smiles, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. Her smile makes it obvious that she doesn't believe Aomine's words, she knows him better than anyone after all.

“Well, I'd want Tetsu-kun to come. When no one comes to greet you at the station, doesn't it seem wrong somehow? Like you're unwanted.”

“Unwanted?”

“Yeah. Like no one cares about whether you return or not. Like you could just disappear and no one would notice.”

“You're that worried about it?” Aomine asks lazily.

“What exactly?”

“Stupid things like that.”

Deep in thought, Momoi looks down at her water bottle for a while, rolls it from one hand to the other.

“Probably,” she answers after a pause. “For some reason I couldn't stop thinking about it for the whole journey. Kinda strange, isn't it?”

“If it's like that, then I'll greet you on the platform. I'll just leave earlier and wait for you there.”

“Thank you,” Momoi says. “Although I thought you'd suggest calling Tetsu-kun.”

“Don't call him,” Aomine answers.

His voice becomes even and sharp, without its usual lazy, somewhat smug undertones; and it sounds like with every word, he's drawing a clean line which shouldn't be crossed out of mere curiosity. Momoi obediently stops talking, even though she's feeling slightly anxious. She understands that something's not quite right here, but has no idea how to ask about it, so she simply opens her bottle and drinks. The cool water makes her shiver, but the hunger abates a little. Momoi searches her bag for a snack and, finding nothing, remembers Murasakibara with a smile. He would've definitely had something. Then she remembers something else – and those memories make her forehead wrinkle in a frown.

“Is he alright?” Momoi decides to ask after all.

Aomine doesn't even look at her. At first it looks like he will ignore her question or once again bring the conversation to a halt, but instead Aomine answers with a sigh:

“I don't know.”

Momoi lowers her gaze to her hands: worry makes them shake slightly. Perhaps she's worried for nothing, but even so, somehow she feels uneasy. She doesn't understand right away that it's about Aomine, that something has been eating away at him for a while now.

“I see it, too,” Momoi says unwittingly.

Suddenly attentive, Aomine turns to face her.

“What?”

“That something's wrong with Tetsu-kun. He's been acting strangely lately, but I didn't pay it any mind. I thought your relationship had that effect on him. Well, and that I may have made it up on my own out of jealousy, I won't deny that.”

“And now you don't think so? Why?”

Momoi shrugs.

“I can't answer that. Suddenly I just understood, that's all. Although maybe I had known it way before, but didn't want to notice it for some reason. It's better to think that I'm making it all up out of jealousy, right? Than knowing now that something's really wrong with Tetsu-kun.”

“I don't like this conversation,” Aomine admits reluctantly.

He rests his temple on his hand and folds his legs at the knees; nothing holds the basketball in place anymore – and it starts rolling around under their seats. Lost in thought, Aomine doesn't pay it any attention.

“I'd like to tell you something,” Momoi says. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

“But promise to take it seriously. I haven't told anyone about it up till now, I couldn't fully believe it myself. I'm not used to believing in something that can't be explained at all.”

Aomine tenses up. He narrows his eyes and glares, as if Momoi was telling something incredibly unpleasant.

“About two weeks ago,” Momoi begins without waiting for an answer, “I saw Tetsu-kun on a public basketball court. He was playing by himself and didn't notice me right away; after all, Tetsu-kun always concentrates on the game. I wanted to watch him for a bit. So we exchanged a few words – and I sat down on the bench to observe his movements. Nothing special, right?”

Aomine nods.

“I thought so, too. Tetsu-kun continued to train and I didn't want him to vanish from my sight, so I didn't take my eyes off of him. Although he still vanished from time to time. But I didn't think that was strange, either, it was Tetsu-kun after all, his abilities have always been a mystery to me. That's why I decided that Tetsu-kun probably had designed a new move and was practicing it in those moments. A pretty logical explanation, right? It just doesn't explain the fact that later, Tetsu-kun disappeared for real.”

“Disappeared?”

“Yeah. Vanished into thin air.”

With those words, Momoi finishes speaking and turns her gaze to Aomine. She doesn't want to see a smirk or a sceptically raised brow in reply; she knows herself how her story sounds from an outsider's perspective. But Aomine doesn't look surprised at all. He's looking at the floor between his legs, then picks up the the basketball and spins it on his finger.

“And after that?” he asks.

“After that, he appeared again, as if he'd never been gone. But, you know, I couldn't have imagined it, because around five minutes had passed before Tetsu-kun –” Momoi pauses, looking for the right word, “– returned.”

“Maybe he just left for a bit.”

“No, that can't be. I was watching Tetsu-kun play, he disappeared right in front of my eyes. Even though his bag was still there next to me on the bench, and the ball continued to roll to the end of the court. Back then, I couldn't understand what had happened, especially because the court is an open area, there's nowhere to hide. I began to look around, went around the court, as if I could've found something. And when I sat down on the bench again, Tetsu-kun was already shooting the ball into the hoop.”

Aomine frowns.

“And you asked him if he'd gone somewhere,” he says, more statement than question.

“I did. Tetsu-kun replied that he didn't go anywhere and that he'd been on the court the whole time, playing basketball.”

“The same as always, huh.”

Momoi waits for an explanation of some kind, but Aomine isn't saying anything and probably won't anymore. Momoi is also silent. This talk has made her feel restless, the anxiety is growing, causing a dull pain in her chest. Momoi tries not to think about the fact that Aomine is hiding something from her; she patiently looks out of the window, from time to time opening the cap of her bottle. The sparkling water hisses, but the sound gets lost in the noise around them. Most of the passengers have long woken up – they're talking to each other, packing their bags. Someone loudly complains about a crick in their neck. Momoi looks at her watch: there's little time left till their arrival.

The train leaves the wide, green fields behind, bursting into the bustling city. The sun shines brightly through the windows, the inside of the train feels warm and comfortable. Momoi doesn't even want to get up from her seat, but Aomine has already lifted their bags from the shelf and, basketball under his arm, itches to leave as quickly as possible. Momoi smiles.

“I'll greet you there,” Aomine reminds her and goes ahead with the bags.

The train slowly empties out, a crowded platform appears on the other side of the windows. Momoi leaves the train last and sees a familiar form among the mass of people: Aomine is standing a little to the side of the crowd and lazily waves to her. Momoi laughs, walks towards him, and to the passer-bys she looks quite happy. Perhaps she has really forgotten about all of her worries in this moment.

“Thank you,” Momoi smiles, taking her bag from Aomine. “I'll go by myself, you don't have to see me home.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I'll call you later!”

She runs away, melting into the crowd. Aomine grins, looks at her back, then sits down on the nearest bench. The morning wind is pleasantly cool against his face, the air is fresh, not as stuffy as on the train. One after the other, the people disperse, leaving Aomine alone. But he doesn't even think about leaving. For some reason, he doesn't want to go anywhere at all.

*-*-*-*

A dark silhouette is hiding behind a tall tree. Its hood is pulled over its eyes, its back hunched over as if it would make it unnoticeable. Upon a closer look, however, it's obvious who it belongs to. Kise keeps his hands in his pockets and focuses his gaze on the porch of a small house, patiently waiting for something to happen. The house he's watching without taking his eyes off is an old, one-story building, built in a suboptimal location and in a less than reputable district. The other few houses look exactly like it, but this is the only one Kise is interested in. He's looking at the door like it should open at any minute.

The door does indeed open, slowly and soundlessly. Kuroko exits the house and, prior to locking the door behind himself, looks around the neighborhood. Kise hides behind the tree; it seems like he doesn't want to be noticed. Kuroko adjusts his jacket, goes down the short flight of stairs and walks along the asphalt sidewalk. His back becomes smaller and smaller until it vanishes around the corner.

Sighing in relief, Kise wipes his sweaty forehead under the hood, then takes his phone out of his pocket and checks that the sound is turned off in advance. He doesn't know how much time he has, but intuition tells him that it'll be a while till Kuroko returns. It's unlikely that he's on a grocery run. He must've gone to greet Aomine, since he's scheduled to return this morning. Kise takes a deep breath and, after making sure that the street is empty, heads towards his destination. As he comes closer, he untimely remembers that he still hasn't been a guest in Aomine's and Kuroko's house even though they bought it several months ago. For some reason it makes Kise angry.

Having passed the fence and circled the house, Kise stops before a randomly chosen window. It's pretty high up, but Kise's height is enough for what he's planning. He covers his hands with the sleeves of his hoodie, turns his face, hidden beneath the hood, away from the window and smashes his elbow into the glass. It shatters with an ear-splitting screech, its shards dropping to the floor with a dull thud. Kise flinches, anxiously expecting the neighbors' angry yells. But nobody cares about someone else's broken window; the street and the nearby houses seem like lifeless decorations. His lips stretched into a crooked smile, Kise shakes the shards from his clothes, checking for wounds in the process and, having pressed the rest of the glass out of its frame, gracefully climbs inside the house. He's full of enthusiasm.

The room he finds himself in looks like a bedroom: a wide bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a chair in the corner. Everything is painted in warm, calming colors. Kise looks around, studying the room carefully, and takes off his hood. His hair is a mess, and his face sports a look of definite confusion. As if Kise himself doesn't understand why he has broken into this house and what he's hoping to find in here. He closes his eyes and tries to remember, but he can't find a single reason. It's just that something drove him to act like this, some force was pushing at his back and wouldn't leave him alone. Kise hasn't been able to think about anything else over the past few days, just that there's something in this house that he needs. But what exactly it is that he's looking for, Kise can't tell himself.

He quickly looks through the other rooms: the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom and toilet, and even the corridor – and returns to the bedroom. He feels calmer here. Kise sits down behind the desk and rubs his hands over his face, chasing away the sleepiness. Someone's shirt is hanging on the back of the chair; Kise squints at it over his shoulder with what could be either repulsion or curiosity. Evidently, it depends on the identity of its owner. When Kise sees that the shirt is probably too big to belong to Kuroko, his expression softens and he touches it with his fingers, as if testing the quality of the fabric. After that, he returns his attention to the desk.

“Why did I come here?” he asks himself, but no one answers.

On the desk, there are a few neatly stacked books, print-outs and lots of ball pens and sharp pencils. An opened laptop sits to the side and next to it is a clock with a cute basketball design. Its hands rhythmically count the time, pointing at orange numbers: quarter past six. Kise watches them and feels the anxiety grow in his chest, as if he has just now fully understood that he has illegally entered the house of someone else. As if to remind him, the morning wind breezes through the broken window, sometimes playing with the tiny shards on the floor. The worst thing, however, isn't this, but the fact that Kise has no idea what to do next. He continues to sit behind the desk without moving a muscle, not understanding what it is he's looking for.

*-*-*-*

Aomine is still alone at the station. No one else is left other than him, everyone has gone on to their own destination. Aomine sits on a bench, leaning back on his arms, and resolutely fights against the sleepiness. He wants to lie down, close his eyes and think about nothing even though he doesn't like the thought of sleeping at a train station. Distractedly, he stares off into the distance: at the smooth rails reflecting the light and the crossties between them, at the sparrows fighting nearby. At the opposite platform where a lonely cleaner is checking for dirt. Nothing unusual.

“Sorry for being late,” Kuroko says next to him. “I had already given up hope of finding you here.”

Frowning, Aomine looks around but sees no one. The platform is still as empty and deserted as it had been ten minutes ago. Absolutely nothing has changed except for the time on the big digital clock. But the voice had been clear and definitely came from somewhere nearby: the usual quiet, nearly emotionless monotone.

“I'm right here, in front of you,” Kuroko continues.

Aomine looks up again and now he sees: Kuroko is standing in front of him at the distance of an outstretched hand, blocking out the tracks as well as the sparrows. He's wearing simple black slacks and a gray shirt, his jacket crumpled in his hands. His hair is slightly wet and clinging to his forehead, his gaze serene and slightly indifferent. He must've run to the station to make it.

“I didn't see,” Aomine replies.

“Strange,” Kuroko shrugs, “You were looking right at me.”

It's impossible to tell by his composed tone whether he is really worried or not. Aomine pretends that it doesn't concern him. He distracts himself with thoughts of a nice, big breakfast, so as not to return to the unpleasant and painful musings about Kuroko's strangeness. His stomach constricts with hunger right away.

“Let's eat somewhere on the way,” he says. “I don't know about you, but I'm so hungry I could die. Haven't eaten anything since yesterday evening.”

“Me too,” Kuroko agrees.

“You didn't have breakfast?”

“No. I slept through the alarm and didn't have time to eat anything.”

Aomine lets out a short laugh and stands up before throwing the basketball to Kuroko. Then he takes his bag, throws it over his shoulder and starts walking towards the exit. Following him, Kuroko pensively turns the ball around in his hands.

“Momoi-san went home already?”

“Almost right away. She kept dreaming about you coming to greet her the whole ride.”

Kuroko throws a quick glance to Aomine.

“To be honest,” he admits, “I came to greet you and didn't remember Momoi-san right away.”

“Whatever. Who knew if you were even coming.”

“You thought I wouldn't come?”

Silence.

“Then why did you stay to wait at the station?”

Aomine doesn't answer right away, gritting his teeth. His jaw hurts from the sudden anger although it's not at all because of Kuroko's curiosity. Aomine doesn't fully understand himself what is causing this fury and why he's reacting this way to a simple question. Perhaps it's precisely this lack of understanding of the current situation that's eating away at him and causing all this to happen.

“I felt like it.”

Kuroko raises his brows in surprise.

“Yeah,” Aomine repeats. “I just felt like it.”

  
  


They leave the station building and look around for the nearest cafe. Most are still closed – it's much too early, although behind the shop windows sleepy waiters are already polishing the tables. Kuroko finds a 24-hour-diner and points it out to Aomine. Aomine starts towards the entrance without hesitation and pulls the heavy door open, letting Kuroko pass first before entering himself. A waitress approaches them right away and leads them to one of the tables, brings the menu. Aside from Aomine and Kuroko, only three other people are inside the diner: one is sitting by the bar and talking to the bartender, the other two are laughing about something or other. Soft music is playing in the background.

“Not much to choose from,” Aomine complains.

Kuroko agrees without even opening the menu. Aomine frowns for a while longer before calling the waitress and ordering miso soup and rice with sashimi. For some reason, Aomine isn't overly happy with having a traditional breakfast.

“I'd like some kind of salad,” Kuroko says. “With tuna, for example.”

“And two teas,” Aomine adds.

The waitress nods, closes her notepad and leaves. Aomine leans back in his seat and watches with a smile as Kuroko cluelessly looks for a place to put the basketball. In the end, the other man simply lets it lie on the floor, his feet holding it in place.

“I missed you,” Kuroko admits calmly.

Aomine smiles smugly in response, his back straightening unconsciously. Kuroko keeps staring at him unwaveringly, although it's clear that he's lost in his own thoughts.

“And I wasn't at all surprised to hear that you missed your train,” he continues.

“Didn't want to ride with the team,” Aomine lies.

“Or you simply forgot.”

Aomine decides not to answer, but the pause is short and a little awkward.

“But I'm happy that you won,” is the end to Kuroko's short proclamation.

“No kidding,” Aomine smirks, feeling relieved all of a sudden.

Their waitress approaches and brings two cups of tea to the table before leaving again and returning with the rest of their order. A bowl of soup as well as rice and sashimi appear in front of Aomine; on the other end of the table she places a plate with tuna salad. She doesn't seem to be in a hurry to leave, as if hesitating to say something. It annoys Aomine.

“Something wrong?” he asks with poorly hidden hostility.

The waitress flinches, then smiles tersely.

“No, no, I was just wondering where your companion had gone because he was still here literally a few seconds ago. Please excuse me and enjoy your meal.”

Bowing once, she leaves. Not paying her any attention, Aomine looks across at the empty chair: the jacket is sloppily hanging off the back, the ball is rolling under the neighboring table. Instead of Kuroko there is emptiness, as if they'd never gone inside the diner while exchanging meaningless phrases. Aomine rubs his eyes and stands up to get the ball, although in truth he wants to check for himself if Kuroko is truly gone. Nothing has changed inside the diner – the same guests and staff, the same dull music in the background. Aomine picks up the ball and returns to his table, pausing by the chair Kuroko had been sitting in just minutes ago. He slides his hand through the air, touches the jacket and, for some reason, the seat itself. His recent thoughts about Kuroko suddenly turning invisible now seem stupid and laughable. In reality, the situation is much worse.

Having once again settled down at the table, Aomine puts the ball on top of his bag, cleans his hands with a wet napkin and starts eating. He's so concentrated on the chair in front of him that he can't taste a thing – Aomine doesn't want to miss the moment Kuroko returns. He needs to know how it happens, what he will see and feel in that second. But time passes, the plates become empty and Kuroko still doesn't come back. Even though normally, he's never gone for long.

More and more guests keep coming into the diner, too loud and too noisy. Aomine silently drinks his tea, occasionally glancing at the time on his phone. He calls Kuroko's phone several times, but hears only the dial tone in reply. An hour passes before Aomine realizes that he's worried – and this sticky fear makes him unbelievably angry. He's ready to call it quits when all of a sudden Kuroko appears in front of him. Aomine doesn't manage to notice anything, it's just that in one moment he realizes he's not sitting alone anymore.

“Fuck!” he exclaims. “Where've you been?”

“Here,” Kuroko replies and starts eating his salad.

Aomine is so angry that his pupils narrow into slits.

“You weren't here.”

“But I was here.”

Kuroko smiles weakly. Absolutely nothing has changed about him, even his hair stands up exactly the way it did about one and a half hours ago. It's just that now, he's deftly eating his salad and looking Aomine straight in the eyes.

“Alright,” Aomine sighs through his teeth. “Where's your phone?”

“My mobile phone? At home. I was hurrying to the station.”

“Okay. Then tell me what I've been doing this whole time.”

Surprised, Kuroko stops chewing.

“Are you alright?” he asks through a mouthful of food. “Your strange questions are beginning to concern me.”

“Answer me!”

Kuroko thinks for a moment, trailing his gaze over the empty dishes around Aomine.

“Eating breakfast, probably,” he answers in a serious tone.

“And?”

“And drinking tea. I don't know what answer you expect me to give.”

“And the ball? Why do I have it?”

Kuroko shrugs in bewilderment, as if it doesn't matter to him why the ball isn't under his chair anymore. Maybe Kuroko just doesn't care about it. Or maybe it's the opposite, maybe he knows perfectly well what's happening to him, but carefully tries to hide it. Aomine stares into Kuroko's face, hoping to find any clue at all, but Kuroko remains completely impassive. Aomine ceases to understand anything. He calls the waitress and asks for the tab. He doesn't want to be neither in the diner, nor in this situation as a whole. It's almost like he knows in advance that he can't change anything at all.

*-*-*-*

Kise is still diligently examining the desk. He scans every single piece of paper he can get his hands on, leafs through books and textbooks in search of marked phrases or hidden messages. He even opens up all the pens, checking for things stored inside. He doesn't touch the laptop, although he hesitates to leave it be and stares at it uncertainly for a long time. Finally he returns his attention to the desk, tries to make sure he hasn't missed anything. It's possible that he's overlooked something, something very important, the thing Kise has come here for. But at first glance it seems like he's searched through everything already.

The room feels suffocating from Kise's efforts and nervousness. The hoodie in which Kise has broken into the house is too warm for the season, but he doesn't have another one with a hood as wide as this. After a moment's hesitation, Kise takes off the hoodie and folds it over his knees so as not to forget it later. Wearing only a striped t-shirt now, he can feel the cool morning air and a fresh gust of wind pleasantly grazes his sweaty skin. Kise smiles and turns his attention from the desk to its drawers: three of them, long and narrow. Opening one of them, Kise sighs upon seeing another stack of paper. For a fraction of a second he wants to leave it be and go home; instead, he starts taking out the documents one by one. Countless certificates, ancient training graphs, a few photos from their Generation of Miracles days. On the very bottom, for some reason there are old transcripts from school. Kise skims over them and, recognizing Kuroko's handwriting, puts everything back and closes the drawer. With such a monotonous task, time passes surprisingly fast.

Closing the second drawer, which contained transcripts and print-outs from university, Kise pensively rests his chin on his hand. He's thirsty, but he's not sure if the should go into someone else's kitchen. In the end he gets up and rushes to the kitchen, pouring some water into the first cup he finds. Kise drinks quickly and hungrily, wipes his hand over his lips and puts the cup back after washing it. His heart beats wildly, as if he just committed yet another crime, and it plummets even further in fear at the sudden ring of a phone.

The sound comes from the bedroom, a melodic tune from a standard model. Kise approaches the nightstand and picks the phone up; the screen shows Aomine's name and number. At first, Kise feels a stinging pain in his chest, then – bewilderment. It looks as if Kuroko hasn't met Aomine, if the other man is calling his mobile. It means one of them could come back soon. Kise curses and looks at the time: a little over two hours have passed. He returns to the contents of the second drawer, but doesn't find anything. The phone rings a few more times, but Kise doesn't pay it any attention.

The third and last drawer is empty. Kise closes it, opens it again and narrows his eyes in suspicion. Intuition is telling him that what he's looking for should be, must be here. The strange force simply doesn't let him close the drawer again – and Kise lowers his hand inside, feeling along every side and corner. Dust gathers on his fingers. Kise doesn't understand what he has to find, perhaps it's a barely visible, crumpled piece of paper. He bends down and looks inside, but there truly is nothing. Emptiness.

Grinning, Kise examines the drawer's fixation and, lifting the drawer itself, takes it out completely. Inside the opening, at the very back, lies a thin notebook; apparently, it was previously plastered along the back of the desk, firmly kept in place by the drawer. Kise can't believe his eyes. He takes out the notebook and feels goosebumps on his skin; he has found what he was looking for.

Naturally, Kise immediately opens it and leafs through it first, then goes back to the beginning and starts reading carefully. The notebook itself is plain, the kind that is sold at every store. There are less pages than there should be – someone probably ripped out a few, but there are no frayed ends to be found. The notebook is only half-full, the handwriting is neat but at the same time also unsteady, the letters jumping as if the writer had been very nervous. That's why Kise doesn't notice right away that the notebook belongs to Kuroko. He swallows the written words hungrily, pausing after about five minutes to stare at the wall with a dumbstruck expression. A thought runs through his head, that he shouldn't have opened this notebook after all, but of course it passes quickly.

Having read until the end, Kise hastily prepares to leave: he slides the drawer back in its place, puts the hoodie on, pulls its hood over his head and hides the notebook in his pocket, folding it in half. He sweeps his gaze over the bedroom, making sure he hasn't forgotten anything, and only then jumps out of the window. Glass shards crunch under his feet in parting and through his clothes, the notebook seems to burn his skin. Kise wants to get rid of it.

*-*-*-*

Aomine and Kuroko walk up to their house and ascend the short flight of stairs to the porch. Kuroko takes a while to find the keys in his pockets and, when he does, unlocks the door with the usual aptitude. He enters the house and visibly relaxes, feeling much calmer in familiar surroundings. Aomine closes the door with a bang and takes his trainers off in a hurry. His bag is still hanging over his shoulder.

“Oi, where're you going?” he calls after Kuroko. “Come back here.”

Kuroko looks back but doesn't hurry to return. First, he places the basketball on its designated place beside the others, and only then walks up to Aomine. The other man has already thrown his bag to the floor and, stepping over it, bends down to Kuroko's eye level to kiss him.

“After all, Tetsu, I also missed you.”

“Oh?” Kuroko says impassively. “And I thought those porn magazines would ease your loneliness during the trip.”

“I didn't take them with me, so shut up.”

“That's not like you at all.”

Aomine becomes visibly mad and Kuroko smiles internally. He buries his fingers in Aomine's thick, dark hair, pulling him closer and kissing him passionately. Their kiss is hot, drawn-out, and somehow insatiable. When Kuroko reluctantly pulls away, feeling a dull pain in his chest, Aomine drags him back by the back of his neck. But Kuroko still turns away.

“We don't need to hurry,” he lies. “Shall we shower first?”

“Are you teasing me?”

“You don't have to put it so bluntly.”

Grinding his teeth, Aomine lets him go.

“This turtleneck suits you very well,” Kuroko continues.

“What?!”

“I'm saying, you look very sexy in this turtleneck.”

“Don't push it,” Aomine growls, heading towards the bathroom. “Or I'll fuck you right here.”

Kuroko watches his back, smiling mysteriously, although in reality his stomach feels in knots with unexplainable anxiety. He knows something has happened, but it's not yet clear what exactly it is. Pressing his lips together, Kuroko takes Aomine's bag and heads towards the bedroom to unpack his things. Passing by the bathroom, he hears the sound of running water and imagines Aomine naked. However, those thoughts are interrupted by the sight of a broken window.

Stopping abruptly, Kuroko looks at the completely missing window-pane, whose big shards are lying on the floor. There are even more small shards, some of them seemingly crushed. Kuroko imagines someone's feet stepping on them and feels a sudden bout of panic. For some reason, he's sure that the one who broke into their house knows what's really happening to Kuroko. Perhaps they came for the sole purpose to confirm that.

Aomine comes out of the bathroom: he's wearing only a loosely tied bathrobe, his bare feet leave a wet trail behind him. Kuroko turns to look at him and can't say a word; under the fear's pressure his calm facade is tearing at the seams. But Aomine doesn't seem to notice. He takes his bag from Kuroko and sighs loudly right after, having noticed the broken window.

“Shit.”

“We have to clean it up,” Kuroko says dully. “Then see if anything was stolen.”

“Shit,” Aomine repeats and throws the bag to the far side of the room.

“Check the money and the documents. I don't think we've got anything but that.”

Kuroko wants to be alone as soon as possible; right now Aomine's presence is a burden. He needs to seize the moment and see for himself if everything is still in place. Because the thing he's so desperately hiding is more important than any of the valuables in their home. It's something that no one must ever know.

“Alright,” Aomine replies without enthusiasm.

His eyes are wild and his fists are clenched tightly; it's obvious that Aomine would much rather get into a fight than do mundane work, to punch his bottled up feelings out of his chest. At any other time, Kuroko would've definitely said something about it and, perhaps, they would've gone to the basketball court afterward or, most likely, had rough sex. This would've happened in the past, when anything serious had yet to occur.

Aomine leaves and Kuroko immediately approaches the desk, avoiding the visible shards of glass. It would be better to clean up first, but Kuroko can't wait that long: he needs to clear up this uncertainty right now. He gets down on his knees and opens the third drawer, presses down on the fixation points to take it out completely. Without taking the time to set it aside, Kuroko bends down immediately and looks inside the opening. The side of the drawer digs painfully into his stomach, but Kuroko doesn't even notice. The only thing he can see is the dark emptiness in front of him and he feels hopelessness weigh down on his shoulders. The notebook where he keeps all the information is nowhere to be found.

Kuroko slides the drawer back into place just a few seconds before Aomine enters the bedroom.

“Why're you sitting on the floor?” he asks.

Kuroko smiles weakly in response.

“I'm picking up the big shards.”

“You'll cut yourself,” Aomine says, frowning. “Let me go change and then I'll help you. The money and the documents are still there, it looks like nothing was touched at all.”

“I'm glad,” Kuroko lies.

He starts picking up the shards, barely even seeing them. On the outside he looks dismissive and indifferent, although right now for the first time in his life Kuroko truly wants to disappear. To dissolve into nothingness, even though that is the worst thing that could happen to him.

*-*-*-*

The park at the edge of town is small and empty, there are no pavilions, just simple benches and wide, sandy footpaths. Beside one of these benches stands Kise. His hood is no longer drawn over his eyes, his hoodie is unzipped; his hands hold the recently found notebook and a lighter he bought on the way to the park. Kise spins the wheel of the lighter, admiring the flame, then puts it into his pocket and starts ripping pages out of the notebook. It seems like he seriously wants to get rid of the thing he so desperately had been looking for.

When all the pages filled with writing have been ripped out, Kise takes out the lighter once again and burns them one by one, watching the flames carefully. As soon as the fire almost touches his fingers, Kise drops the page and stomps it out, then picks it up again. He puts the tiny pieces of paper, on which only a few letters can be seen, back into the notebook. Like this, around five minutes pass by.

When he's finished, Kise sits down on the bench, feeling the tiredness from the stressful morning settle in. He rolls the notebook with the empty pages and scraps of paper into a tube and holds it tightly in his hand. Right now Kise needs to decide what to do next, but nothing comes to mind. What he has stumbled upon is too unreal and doesn't at all fit into the normal, everyday life.

After a moment's thought, Kise takes his phone out of his jeans pocket and turns on the volume. He opens his contacts and scrolls down the list, looking for someone to call. Choosing a person is hard, but Kise needs to talk to someone. He needs a person who won't ask unnecessary questions, but will also hear him out and give his opinion. It looks like there's only one contact in his list who can fill that role. Hesitating, Kise presses the call button.

The phone rings for about ten seconds before an even, slightly annoyed voice picks up. Kise remembers that it's early morning and slaps his palm to his forehead in disappointment, knowing that no one will listen to him. But the person on the other side of the line doesn't hang up, there is only a long, tedious silence.

“Hi,” Kise blurts out hurriedly. “I woke you up, didn't I? Sorry! And don't hang up! It's very important.”

“What happened?” Midorima asks drily.

On the other side of the line there is the sound of Midorima getting out of bed and going somewhere. Kise listens to it like it could tell him what to do to avoid annoying the other man.

“It's not something I can say on the phone. Can we meet? Like, as soon as possible.”

“No, I have other plans.”

“But it's very important!”

Midorima doesn't react, but also doesn't hang up. Kise thinks that he's probably pushing up his glasses in front of the bathroom mirror. It makes him smile.

“I just need your advice,” Kise sighs, clutching the notebook even tighter. “I spent a long time choosing who to call, and decided on you. Because only you will be able to find the right solution! I'm sure of it!”

“Alright,” Midorima agrees unexpectedly. “Where should I go?”

Kise doesn't believe his ears. He licks his dry lips and says the first thing that comes to mind:

“Let's meet at our vending machine, where you always buy your red bean soup. I'll be there...” Kise hesitates, looks at his wrist watch, “...in twenty-five minutes.”

“Okay,” Midorima says and hangs up immediately.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, Kise jumps off the bench and runs out of the park. It's not because he's that eager to meet up, but he's afraid of not making it in time; Midorima probably wouldn't hear him out then, if he'd wait at all. Running makes him hot and when Kise finally enters the much cooler subway, he blissfully closes his eyes. The train will arrive at any minute.

There are few people at the stop, after all it's the edge of town, and Kise boards the train without problems, taking one of the free seats. All that's left to do is to wait in silence while the train rushes through the morning city. Kise imagines the talk with Midorima, unable to come up with a way to tell him what happened without giving away the crucial points. Will he be able to keep silent, to stop at the right moment? Will it even be possible to receive any kind of advice if Midorima doesn't know the whole situation? Kise sighs, grips the notebook tightly and decides to follow his intuition.

The train stops and a mechanically even voice announces the name of the station. Kise jerks up and barely manages to jump out of the train, once again pulling his hood over his eyes. There too many people around, especially girls, and right now Kise definitely doesn't want to draw any attention. He exits the subway, shooting a glance at the big clock by the station, and runs towards the public basketball court. A small distance away there is a row of vending machines. Kise runs up to them and puts his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He smiles happily, glad to have arrived before Midorima.

Having found the right vending machine, Kise buys a can of coffee and red bean soup. The moment he's opened his coffee and taken the first sip, he's silently approached by Midorima. The other man is wearing simple black slacks and a brown shirt with its sleeves rolled up; his fingers are taped as usual and cold, calculating eyes blink from behind his glasses. Kise raises his can in greeting and hands over the red bean soup.

“I'm so glad you came,” he admits with obvious sincerity. “Thank you.”

Midorima doesn't answer. He looks at the drink in his hands, then at the vending machine, and pulls out his wallet, counting out the exact sum of money. Kise tries to brush it off but doesn't succeed. It seems like Midorima doesn't like to be indebted to anyone, even if it's about something as small as a cheap drink from a vending machine.

“Let's be quick and to the point,” Midorima says, opening the can. “Ten minutes at the most.”

Kise nods and leans back against the cool wall, hiding the notebook in the hoodie's pocket. Then he takes off his hood.

“Let's say,” he begins, “that you've suddenly learned something very important, but you can't actually change anything with this information. You just learn it at some point, that's all. For example, basketball.”

“Basketball?”

“Yeah. Like, I really like basketball and can't imagine a life without it. But, imagine that one day you learn that I actually don't really care about basketball at all. And the information is one hundred percent correct! What would you do?”

Midorima shrugs.

“Nothing.”

“Damn, bad example then. Alright, how about this. Here I am, and right now we're talking. But you learn that in reality, I don't exist. What'd you do then?”

“How would I talk to you if you didn't exist?”

Kise triumphantly waves the hand holding his drink. Coffee drips out of the can, but Kise doesn't notice.

“Exactly!” he exclaims. “That's the problem! You learn that I don't exist and start asking yourself questions. On one hand, it's got nothing to do with you, but on the other hand, you can't get these questions out of your head. I'm not sure I'd call it curiosity. Worry, maybe. But that's the situation you're in.”

“If we take into account that it's you and not me who's in this situation, and that you won't rest until you've answered all your questions, you should simply confront them head-on.”

“Confront who?” Kise asks, not understanding.

“The one who really doesn't exist.”

Having finished the drink, Midorima throws the can into a nearby trashcan and hides his hands in his pants' pockets. His face shows no emotion, as if he's shut everyone out behind a carefully constructed barrier, but Kise can guess that Midorima isn't at all interested in these mysterious examples.

“It's time for me to go,” Midorima says and leaves without saying goodbye.

Kise pensively turns the can of coffee in his hands, consciously stalling for time. He doesn't want to call Kuroko, but it looks like no other choice is left. He takes out his phone and stares at the screen for a long time.

*-*-*-*

The very same melodic tune of the standard model disturbs the silence of the house. Kuroko gets up from the floor and goes to pick up the phone while an irritated Aomine continues to gather the bigger glass shards. They need to decide what to do about the broken window until they get a new one, but they're not talking to each other. Kuroko sighs, not sure if he should answer Kise's call. He doesn't want to talk at all, feeling as though he has lost his will to do anything in the fraction of a second. But politeness doesn't allow him to ignore the call and Kuroko wearily sits down on the bed and picks up the call.

“Are you busy?” Kise asks immediately. “I'd like to talk.”

Kuroko looks back at Aomine, who had gone to the kitchen and now returns with a stack of paper trash bags. He starts putting the shards into one of them.

“I'm busy,” Kuroko replies. “Someone broke our window, we have to clean up and order a new one.”

Kise is breathing loudly, from time to time a crackling sound comes from the other end of the line. It sounds like a bad connection but, of course, it's not about that. Kuroko hears something rustle.

“It was me,” Kise suddenly admits and releases a short, nervous laugh. “Don't say anything right now, later. Are you alone?”

“No,” Kuroko says shortly.

“Then go somewhere, I'll wait. I just wanna talk,” Kise hesitates for a few seconds, “about your notebook.”

Without answering, Kuroko gets up and silently exits the bedroom. Aomine doesn't even notice. Kuroko forcefully clutches the phone against his ear; the fingers holding it are painfully rigid. His body moves mechanically, as if it wasn't his own, and his free hand doesn't manage to open the front door on the first try. Having finally gotten outside, Kuroko feels better. He doesn't feel any anger or annoyance towards Kise, rather, a strange sense of relief washes over him, as if everything is going as it should. On the other side of the line, Kise is obviously buying something from the vending machine. Taking a seat on the highest step, Kuroko thinks that he wouldn't say no to a vanilla shake right now.

“I'm here,” he says.

Kise pauses, seemingly gathering the courage to ask something.

“Is it true?” he asks after all. “What you wrote in there. It's really hard to believe, but I've seen you vanish with my own eyes.”

His voice is quiet and strained, worry hidden deep inside of it. At the same time, his speech is fast and impatient, as if he's on the brink of solving a thousand year old riddle. Kuroko's lips stretch into a weak, lifeless smile.

“It's true.”

“And you're really going to disappear? Forever?”

“Probably,” Kuroko shrugs.

The talk makes him uncomfortable. He remembers diligently writing everything that happened to him into the notebook and wonders what he did it for. Perhaps he was led by the wish to understand what was happening; perhaps he just subconsciously wanted to talk to someone. Now, on the other end of the line, Kise knows everything – and Kuroko feels strangely uneasy, as if he's admitting to his sins.

“There's one thing I can't understand: Why is it happening to you? What's the cause?”

Kuroko shakes his head.

“I don't know, one day I just started disappearing for a while. First it was just for a few seconds, then longer and longer. I didn't realize it myself in the beginning, because when I disappear, I fall into a state similar to being asleep. You know, as if I was in a deep, dreamless sleep.”

“But you're not simply asleep. You vanish like you'd never been there in the first place.”

“Maybe that's what it's about, that I'm not supposed to be here.”

“And someone is erasing you from this world?”

“I don't know,” Kuroko repeats wearily. “I've been looking for the answer to this question for a long time, I've read many books and articles. Of course there are no scientific explanations, no one has encountered anything like this. And if they did, they kept silent about it, like me. But there are many theories in fiction. For example, about parallel worlds or time travel.”

Kise clicks his tongue in thought before asking:

“But you're not from a parallel world, are you?”

“No, I'm a normal student,” Kuroko smiles.

“Well, not that normal,” Kise drawls before returning to the topic: “And why do you think that everyone will forget about you? That's stupid, we've been together since middle school, we have lots of memories together!”

“If there is no place for me in this reality, people probably won't remember me. Otherwise all of it would be rather pointless. Also, sometimes when I return, others don't remember me right away.”

Kise pauses.

“So what do we do?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Kuroko replies. “We wait.”

He suddenly feels very weak, as if the talk has drained all of his energy. Saying everything out loud has turned out to be a very painful task, like going through all the moments and emotions for a second time. Kuroko clenches and unclenches his hand, imagining a ball bouncing off the floor. He wants to play basketball with his old team, the Generation of Miracles, to remember one last time how it feels like to be someone's shadow. Plus, he strongly misses the presence of Aomine. Kuroko thinks that he should try to come back inside and have sex, perhaps for the last time. Right now he feels the need to have another body close more than ever.

“Please, don't tell Aomine anything,” Kuroko requests. “I don't want him to know. Anyone but him.”

Kise is saying something, but Kuroko doesn't listen. He's thinking about something or other, retreating into himself, and doesn't hear Kise's emotional speech. The morning is slowly approaching midday, the sun gently warms his face and shoulders; there is no wind, just the slight coolness of the air. Kuroko smiles. He thinks that right now is the perfect time to play basketball.

*-*-*-*

Having cleaned everything up, Aomine makes a call and arranges for a new window to be installed, emphasizing the urgency. Then he sits down on the bed, stretching out his legs, and lazily considers whether it's worth it to call the police. He doesn't want to explain anything to anyone or to have strangers in the house, he's tired from traveling overnight. That's why, after unpacking his bag, Aomine goes to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee despite not liking its taste. But the sleepiness is coming over him in waves, his head throbs dully from the excitement of the past few days. Right now, he wants to lie on the roof like he used to in the past, and to fall asleep to the faint sound of chirping birds.

The water boils loudly and the boiler switches off. Aomine pours the hot water into his cup, his eyes narrowing suspiciously when he hears a phone ring from just outside the house. He sets the water boiler to the side and exits the house, leaving the front door open behind him. A small mobile phone is lying by his feet, the vibration making it rotate around its axis. Aomine picks it up from the top step of the stairs and looks at the screen in bewilderment – Kise's name and number blink on the screen in a bright blue color. Without thinking, he picks up the call and puts the phone to his ear.

“I've just come home,” he says instead of a greeting. “What do you want?”

Kise is silent at first, then he breathes out loudly, grinding his teeth.

“Oh!” he exclaims like it was nothing. “Look who's back! Do you wanna basketball today? I'm sure I'll beat you this time.”

“No. Some asshole broke one of the windows today, now I gotta stay here and wait for someone to come fix it, see if they'll have to replace the whole window or just the glass. I can't tell for shit, and I don't really care anyway. But I won't be able to sleep.”

On the other side of the line, Kise gives a strained laugh. Aomine frowns, not understanding what's the problem. Kise is trying too hard to seem cheerful and carefree. Perhaps something happened to him, or he wants to ask for something but can't bring himself to do it. To be honest, Aomine doesn't care about other people's problems. Especially now, when the day has been hopelessly ruined.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” Aomine says. “Was that all?”

“No,” Kise replies sharply and falls silent.

Aomine purses his lips in annoyance, but patiently waits for Kise to resume talking. Why, he doesn't know, he simply continues to stand by the stairs. The floor is unpleasantly cold against his bare feet, a sudden wind makes the open door creak slightly. Maybe Aomine should've agreed to a basketball match after all. Then his head wouldn't be full of useless thoughts that resonate painfully in his chest.

“Do you live alone?” Kise asks suddenly.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Aomine snorts.

“Of course. Who else would I live with?”

Kise fakes a laugh in reply.

“How should I know?”

Aomine gets angry and ends the call without saying goodbye. The phone has become hot in his hand, its screen is slightly foggy. Aomine wipes it off with his hand and looks at the drawing of a basketball in the background. There are no photos or notes saved on the phone, the list of contacts is short, all of them people Aomine knows from his school days. His own number is also listed. Aomine turns the phone in his hands for a few more minutes, examining its contents, then takes it with him into the house, closing the door behind himself. At first, Aomine is curious who the phone might belong to and how it ended up on the stairs of the porch, but then he forgets everything, dozing off into a light sleep.

*-*-*-*

Kise buys a simple, cheap ball pen, sits down on a nearby bench and takes the notebook out of his pocket, opening it on the first page. Just to be sure, he starts writing down all his memories of Kuroko, so long as he hasn't completely forgotten.


End file.
